G IS FOR GRANDPARENTS

 

Seen here with my dads parents, my truly amazing grandparents.

My Mommy knit my sweater. I LOVED that purple thing.
This photo confirms that I was clearly born to be a Prince fan!
TAKEN: Spring 1973

I was born in a very small town, just across the Ontario border, in western Quebec. 

It was a small pulp and paper town, where the majority of my extended family grew up. More importantly, it was where both sets of my parents parents lived only a few miles apart.

I had a great childhood. With such vivid memories imbedded in my head before we moved to Ontario. Oh the wonderful memories I have of 222 2nd Avenue.

Spending time in the lane with my Pepere as chickadees landed on his hat and then he ultimately had them eating from his hand. Him teaching me to stepdance as he played from a fiddle he had in fact crafted himself. 

And that my Memere, always let me stand by her side at the stove explaining her process for what she was making. Her letting me shake the flour mixture to help her make gravy stands out the most. 

So much so,  that every time I watch my mother-in-law embrace the same process, my childhood in that kitchen comes rushing back to me.

Let's face it. I know those things may read as simple, but their love was heartfelt and I think they are one of the reasons that I have never had issue showing affection as an adult. 

I suppose there is a possibility they were just pacifying a gregarious kid - but if that was the case, they never let on. 

And for that... I have always been truly grateful.

C IS FOR CANDID

A couple of weeks ago I saw this meme floating around the social media platforms and it truly resonated. It was just a picture titled the truth in me, so I must assume the author is unknown.

I have no desire to fit in.

No plans to walk with the crowds.

I have my own mind, heart and soul.

I am me and it has taken me years to realize how important that is.

No matter who you are, you can't be more candid that that. Life is simply too short to worry about what others think; and I don't.

Now when it comes to my dogs? That's another story.

The truth is my goal in life is to always be the person my dogs already think I am!

Big day. Taking Miya Maria to meet her new sister Katie Lulu.
TAKEN: JANUARY 23rd, 2023

R IS FOR REALITY

 

#truestory #lifeisshort

F IS FOR FIFTY-ISH

I have no issue being FIFTY-ISH. Just get a tad impatient when a plan goes off track
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2022 

Since my first, these bucket list birthday (long weekend) celebrations have always evolved. First, I would like to give Air Canada a big shoutout, because their excellent round trip air fare to Miami and killer flight times, made this adventure achievable.

That said, when sipping and lounging in the pool with some very friendly American ladies my age, they disclosed that since travel locked down happened, the prices in Key West have more than tripled. 

Not gonna lie, when we discovered a room for the night (in the perfect Duval Street location with parking) was a sneeze under $1,000 Canadian, we had to revamp my 'Born Day Bash' and only stay one night in Margaritaville. 

That said, no regrets on the choices made, as upper, lower and middle keys are all very expensive.  As our plans evolved, we realized that the money was saved for a reason. 

Ultimately that (after the last couple of years) we were both worth it. At the end of the day, this adventure wasn’t about spending our time in Key West, it was about experiencing the road trip and drive. 

So back to my long winded point...

The pic I am sharing was taken at the Southernmost point of the United States which is only 90 miles from Cuba. The sun was sweltering, and as you can tell by my hair and non-existing makeup, that the humidity was off the charts. 

Made no matter. As my man watched in shock, I stood up on the knee wall and happily snapped a selfie.

Why not pose with next to the monument like to people I cut out of my photo?

Because the line up for an official photo op was hundreds deep and this FIFTY-ISH, very task oriented gal, had places to go, pictures to take, sun to soak up, pools to float in, and a Duval Street pub crawl to prepare for.

Ya, with regards to the latter, we had an early dinner, watched the sunset at Mallory Square, walked in and out of six of seven places sipping the same drink, and were both in bed before 10pm.

Don't judge. At least our dinner wasn’t the 4pm blue plate Florida Special at the Ponderosa. 

Close, it was 6pm at El Meson de Pepe and the plates were red.

Proving we’ve still got a ton of game left in us!!!

D IS FOR DOGHOUSE

To think I only went into the grocery store for a loaf of bread!
TAKEN: JULY 2021

I read somewhere that a dog truly only has one fault, which is that their life is too short. A simple yet powerful statement that I happen to agree with 1000%.

Don’t get me wrong, in all of our years owning pups, several shoes, random clothing, expensive furniture, as well as dinner thawing on the kitchen counter have all fallen prey. All chewed and ultimately enjoyed the good old fashion canine way.

One might think that the above list would be enough fuel to encourage yours truly to get a bird; but not this cat (no pun intended).

This is the second time we've transitioned a new pup into our pack as we prepare for her beautiful senior leader to wind down. Though it's a lot of personal investment that first year, it is truly worth it. 

In our situation today, our newest pup has had the benefit of some great training her matriarch never absorbed no matter how hard we tried. From the day my beloved Puddin' arrived home more than a decade ago, she has always marched to the tune of a different drummer.

Truth is we had to build her a run to keep her in check. We use to have to tie her as she simply would not listen. We have our theories as to why, and we are the first to acknowledge that we are in no way dog whispers. Again, we highlight we are just struggling parents with an audience that now have four legs rather than two.

That said, as we age and so does our pack. We hear others say "We do not want, nor will have another dog in retirement. We want to travel."

Knowing we have no desire to spend capital outside of Canada, we too want to go south in the depths of the Canadian winter months. Should all things align, we will head south, and our pups will come with. I think the key is something called 'square footage'. 

Meaning our mobile DOGHOUSE will need to be much bigger than the back of our Mazda CX5 as shown in my photo!

A IS FOR AGAIN

What a difference 9 years makes. Can you tell I am out of practice taking a selfie?
TAKEN: March 31, 2013 & April 1st, 2022

It’s hard to fathom that I started this wee electronic journal over ten years ago.

That day was Sunday November 20, 2011, and a grand total of thirty five people read my very first sentences stating: ‘Okay, so it’s apparent that I’ve set this thing up without a plan. Once again, the cart is before the horse. 

Whatever, I’ll pat myself on the back, call it forward thinking and move on.’

With views over a million cumulatively over all platforms, the back story is that prior to deciding to write, I had been following two other writers of blogs. One was a gal I'd gone to high school with, the second a chicka whom truly inspired me, known as Cold Lake Cathy 

It was her encouragement that gave me the confidence to take my first April A-Z Blogging Challenge which began April 1^st, 2013. Exactly nine years ago today.

From 2013-2020 I did my best to participate and post. But when April 2021 rolled around, my personal life as well as the entire world was in limbo and I just couldn’t motivate myself to participate. 

Then, after leaving my job last fall to stay home and care for my husband, I went back through all my offerings and did a “from the archives” hybrid version. 

I chose posts that resonated with me when I first wrote them and reposted each by backdating them into April 2021 using the exact day (stating the year) they originally appeared. 

That lengthy exercise last fall, the reading of all offerings and choosing twenty six posts, made me realize that I didn’t want to stop writing. It actually helped me understand how cathartic the process can be and how emotionally attached I am to this silly little journal.

By the way, the photo above on the left is what I looked like the night before my very first A-Z post on April 1, 2013. The photo on the right, what I look like today.

These days, my coloured gray hair is thinner and much shorter. The dreaded waistline is regretfully wider, and the lifelines on my skin more apparent. Peeps, middle age is unquestionably my vibe. 

The only thing similar is my overall optimism and a couple of important factoids that remain instilled since the start of my journey (as avid readers will relate):

A) The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary.

B) When arguing with a stupid person, make sure they aren't doing the same thing.

C) Never push a loyal person to the point when they no longer care.

D) Always tell the truth, it gives you far less to remember.

E) Smile, it improves your face value.

F) Lastly, a great neighbour is definitely a found treasure. (For those reading, feel free to stop by the house next week and pick up dog poop. Free dog* to the first three that arrive!)

Chuckles aside, wish me luck peeps. Nine year later... I am at it AGAIN!

*Important caveat: The three dogs available upon 'great neighbour poop pick up day' are not mine - and most definitely shall be named later.

DEBATING WINTER WARMTH

Over the recent 2021 holiday break, I watched a 7-part documentary offering on Netflix titled Pretend It’s A City, starring New York City author and 70’s icon Fran Lebowitz.

Though she made a ton of valid points about the Big Apple within the hours I watched, in one episode, she went on a rant on how she can’t believe people travel for the purpose of enjoyment. 

"When I’m in airports and I see that there are people going on vacations, I think… How horrible could your life be?” Then she continued with “Like, how bad is your regular life, that you need to escape it?!”

As you know, my husband and I have travelled quite a bit and we have a pretty great ‘regular life.’ So, as soon as she said it, I instantly did a double take and wish I would have had the laser sharp wit to say what I will say here today. 

"Yo, Franny...” (I'll call her that, because we quickly bonded during my very lengthy and indulgent binge watch in my jammies.) "Kiss my fat and colourful carryon caboose... and stick my boarding pass where the holiday sun don't shine!”

Overbearing travel opinions of one rich New Yorker aside, next month marks the 10^th anniversary of the very first trip my hubby and I took without our kids. I had won a $5,000 travel voucher and we decided to travel in great style to a destination that we’d never typically be able to afford to go. Negril, Jamaica was where we landed.

On that trip, we met a couple that we have stayed in touch with ever since. As a matter a fact, we got along so well, that we met each other again in Runaway Bay two years later; and we were invited to their wedding in Montego Bay in April of 2018. (That's the amazing HMR on the right, photobombing my man.)

Winter work (in Muskoka) vs. Winter warmth (in Runaway Bay)
TAKEN: Today and February 2014

I totally miss travelling... Because for us it isn’t just about the time you spend together once you’ve arrived at your destination. We enjoy the planning, research, the anticipation, and of course the most exciting part for me - the sound of my passport getting stamped.

Which takes me back to my buddy Fran. How bad is my 'regular life' if I need to escape it? I say toss that Toonie into the air, because the other side of the proverbial coin question will be: How many narrow minded people do you know that have a thick passport?!”

Either way, I can say with confidence, that every single stamp we’ve gotten along the way will be only one of the many conversations we will always enjoy together for the rest of our lives.

So, there you have it Ms. Lebowitz.

 Point. Set. Match.... ME!

Y IS FOR YESTERDAY

From the April A-Z Blogging archives.
This was originally posted April 29th, 2013

Oh, the double edged sword. 

I’m the first to admit you can never go back; but if you could, what’s the one thing that you would change? 

I realize it’s an unrealistic question but deep down inside, I would be surprised if you said absolutely nothing.

April 29th, 2013 - YESTERDAY
Taken: April 1977

If I was being completely honest with myself, there are a few things in the last thirty plus years I would have done differently. Some apply to my immediate family, some apply to me intimately as a person, and some even apply to my married life.

I have spent my entire life as a driving force for everyone else; fiercely competitive with a core focus on progress and success. 

As a person never wanting to stop moving forward, I can’t believe that in this very moment I am thinking about what could have been.

It’s not because I am feeling especially reflective, it's just the word itself planted the seed. As soon as I chose 'yesterday', my imagination literally ran. 

My childhood, sports, teen years, discipline, marriage, small children, grown children, career. The reaction was swift. 

That said, I am going to go there just the same. 

If I could venture to any given yesterday, what's the one thing I would change? 

It's more of a wish really.

I simply I would have been free to be ME.

F IS FOR FACING FEAR

 From the April A-Z Blogging archives. 

This was originally posted April 7th, 2016.

For anyone that been reading here for any length of time, you're very aware that 2016 is intended to be about the experience for me. 

So naturally, when we decided to rent a house in Mexico, I immediately knew that I wanted to go way the hell out of my comfort zone and once again looked to my bucket list. This trip, I had set my sights on trying to learn to surf.

Just waiting for the right wave.
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2016

Well, I am pleased to report that I've been rockin' a boogie board all week and tomorrow's the day that I officially get on a surf board; yet I'm not sure how it will go.

My eldest boy surfed yesterday and he was amazed just how hard it was. 

After bout an hour, he walked up the beach with what seemed like his knuckles dragging behind him, because he's worked his arms so much. 

Truth? I really don't care if I am unsuccessful catching a great wave. 

For me, it's about setting my sights on something and seeing it through. The fact that I've spent three days in the ocean preparing for this milestone tells me that I have faced my biggest fear of all.

My fear of the unknown.

Wish me luck!

POLITICAL HAIR DAZE

In this electronic offering, I would like to discuss something as simple as the fact that I was privileged enough to get my hair cut and coloured in Simcoe-Muskoka last week. 

As proof of how truly grateful I am, I have attached before and after selfies illustrating my being provided a much needed personal service that I took completely for granted.

Before and After: With selfie photoshoots happening less than a month apart.
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 2021

Before I begin my rant, I would like to insert a caveat. With all we have happening in the world right now, I wake up every morning making an honest effort to be politically diplomatic. Meaning... 'to say nothing, especially when speaking, is half the art of diplomacy.’

I will acknowledge the fact that I’m sure you're perplexed out of the gate with the concept of my saying ‘nothing.’  My choice isn't because I have decided to shy away from the comfort of confrontation, more because in the last year I tend to gut check before I engage online with a person that is being irrational; to ensure that they are NOT going to be doing the same thing. 

That said, though I have my own ideas on how we got to today, I was wondering if anyone else (specifically in Ontario) feel like the tail is now officially wagging the dog? 

Why has cart sanitation and hazard pay at the local box stores disappeared, yet my amazing hairdresser with only one chair, obsessed to comply with every safety aspect thrown at her, expected struggle to generate honest revenue and pay bills?

It makes no sense.

The fact that the 'essential' weed shop in the sleepy little town where I live is an uber small business with a line up around the corner and down the lane, yet for months I couldn't get a haircut in a shop with a single chair. Even more baffling's that the elementary schools remain open here after cases are confirmed in students, and people still can't get a f*ucking haircut!

Look, I know I am scratching a scab that has been puss filled for a year. But we are locked down in Muskoka again thanks to a supposed 'UK variant' that has landed from Ireland. How did it get here?

At this point, because we aren't allowed to travel, my best guess makes me wonder if it landed on the lid of a can of Guinness sold at the local LCBO, that slipped into the store cooler after refusing to wear mask. 

That said, did you hear?  I got my hair done. We wore masks and everything!

Had it been 72 hours later? My gal would have lost her license!!

#rantcomplete #yagottalaughaboutit #totalbullshit #limitededition 

JANUARY JUGGERNAUT

For the last decade, Friday mornings in January had me check the weather to see how low the temperature was expected to dip within the coming 48 hours.  This weekly tradition helped me understand how my weekend was going to be spent (-10C registered as balmy and -25C as housebound).

If I was lucky enough to be blessed with a mild winter, one of the two days had me strap on my snowshoes and head out with the pups. Nine times out of ten I would land at the cottage but if I did not have the luxury of half the day to myself, the golf course across the street was an excellent option for my weekly ritual. 

A few years ago, when our beloved Dotti's hips began to be an issue, my biggest winter priority was ensuring she had a series of snowshoed paths for easy access around the lower level of our yard, so she would never struggle when out to do her stinky winter thing with nature. 

With our Puddin’ entering her twilight years, it seemed my winter weekends were once again destine to be spent blazing trails with my showshoes. With her general lack of speed and muscle mass, I knew she would be appreciative to be able to navigate her turf with general freedom; and yours truly, grateful for the outdoor exercise. 

That said, with my husband having his own personal health setback at Thanksgiving, he too is in search of whatever exercise he can easily accomplish. 

You can tell by the picture I am sharing (which I snapped standing in my showshoes) that my trails are getting an updated facelift, and my longstanding pup efforts are being replaced.

Can't stop change, only manage it!
#yagottalaughaboutit
TAKEN: JANUARY 31st, 2021

I don't mind his initiative, I honestly don't. My girls will love their new trails that are wider and much easier for them to navigate. 

I guess my wee issue is that this whole lockdown situation has NOT been my friend. 

I may do my best to do my due diligence in the exercise department - only to come back into the house and enjoy a plethora of warm milk and cookies.

I know I have no one to blame but myself. But I will say, that not spending an hour every morning on my appearance to head into an office job, has enabled my keen ability to shroud myself in clothing that masks the number of calories being enjoyed at any given yummy juncture. 

Wanting to embrace my glass half full, I have decided to shift my mindset to an uber positive outlook as my appearance changes.

My new mantra? I prefer not to think of myself as overweight... 

Just substantially easier to see!!

#missionaccomplished

TINY BUBBLES

My electronic journal found some bizarre inspiration this morning. 

It was when the vinyl record player that is my mind kept hearing the classic 1966 Don Ho lounge lizard tune: Tiny Bubbles . (The song title is a link for those that have yet to have the pleasure.)

Now I'm sure we can all agree my chosen isn't a festive holiday tune, nor a track that plays into the whole 'reason for the season' vibe. Let's face it, as we crawl toward the end of a year so annoying it continually tripped over itself (twenty-twenty), a song about tiny bubbles within a lockdown mandate shouldn't be considered unfathomable.

My tiny bubble. Featuring my amazing Fab Five!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2020

Now, not being one to pet a cat backward just to prove I can, nor jump off the bridge downtown simply because I live in a town that has one with a cool brace over it, I would like to disclose that  months ago I decided to invested in understanding why we were being asked to live in a 'bubble' and what it actually meant. 

As a result, since being told to 'assume the position', I have not waivered from the general directive. All guidelines have been respected. All internet trolls looking to stir shit for the sake of having their voice amplified when they normally wouldn't, were heard.

At the end of the day, it's really hard to believe that it has been over nine months since everything became so hateful and unnecessarily divided. Even amongst my bubble featured here, we have agreed to disagree - leaving certain subjects abandoned and all opinions respected on every occasion.

One subject never abandoned? My obsession with taking their picture.

As a mother, I've I known for many years they hate posing and having me take their photo. I know they don't really want me to, yet cordially comply because they understand (in the end) it may be extremely important... To someone else. 

Thus making my photo taking philosophy the perfect mantra for what will make 2021 tolerable for all. 

In a nutshell? Take the high road and always play nice. 

Just like those in my tiny bubble do every time an impromptu photo op awkwardly presents itself!

SNOW IT STARTS!

The frozen precipitation I deem a constant irritant and source of months of personal misery landed last week. Allow me to draw to your attention to exhibit 'A' below: my frustrating flakey foe. Stupid f*cking snow! 

My pretty pups posing with my frozen foe!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 16th, 2020

Dirty chirps aside, like I do every autumn, I force myself to push through this horrible six weeks of time change purgatory, until the days begin to get longer and the UV rays reflect off our pristine white blanket in January. 

With my seasonal affective disorder at its most debilitating in November, I always spend time looking for positive distractions. This electronic journal helped me in the fall of 2011 and in post Thanksgiving time changes since, I have leaned on it more often than not. 

This year, with all that's happening you would think I would want to write more, yet my creative canvas appears completely blank. Therefore, if writing isn't going to be where I channel my energy,  I have resigned myself to the fact that I am going to need another outlet. 

With that in mind, three weeks ago I took a giant step and dug out and dusted off my trustworthy treadmill. It stands proud upstairs, looking out the big picture windows and I enthusiastically offer it social niceties multiple times a day. 

So far, I have yet to plug the power cord into the wall and take it for a spin. Guess its because I'm a firm believer you can't rush back into a physical relationship, when you've completely ignored its purpose for over five years; which is why this weekend I shifted my focused to the upcoming holiday season. 

With the kids grown and gone, there isn't near as much to look forward to as their use to be, yet I do my best to get into the spirit of things. Though I never ask for anything, I do love to gaze at my Christmas tree lights each night for the entire month of December, bringing specific enlightenment to my earlier attempt at a new energy absorbing distraction. 

You see, I put my newly dusted off old chum in the very same spot I always put the holiday Christmas tree that houses those 500+ beautiful LED lights I love. 

Knowing Christmas lights trump everything, I am feeling very grateful I only ever offered a cheerful good morning to my buddy, never hopping on with false intentions. 

Because I know now, that we would have just gotten back into a familiar rhythm, and I would have had to fold 'er up and move 'em to the cold garage, alone, until early January 2021.  Once again proving, the creative process and this silly electronic journal offer me the crystal clear clarity and self enabling justification I crave this time of year. 

Which leaves me hollering, yet again.... Pass the chocolate cake, spark another Hallmark movie, and deck the freaking halls! 

Oh, before I forget. Is there anyone around next weekend to help me move a treadmill?

#yagottalaughaboutit 

TRICKY TRAVEL TALK

Last week, after noticing that some of my Canadians snowbird pals were beginning to flock south until next spring, I decided to open up a social media discussion on the possibility of upcoming travel to the Caribbean in the winter of 2021. 

I knew I might be encroaching on a tricky topic with some controversial dialogue happening, yet in the wide reaching forum I created, my network answered both respectfully and with personal honestly.

Wind blown, cruising the Mississippi River aboard The Natchez New Orleans
TAKEN: MAY 29th, 2019

As I sit here and type, I can't help but revisit the very first comment on my thread. A seasoned traveler wrote – “No travel until I’m vaccinated!”

On the day of the election of the 46th President of the United States, I can’t help but wonder what’s next in both the virus protection and travel departments. 

Right or wrong, a vaccine produced without proof of proper exploratory stages, pre-clinical development and regulatory review for approval, is not something I am rushing to put into my body. 

The shoe on the other foot reminds me that my thread wasn't intended to be a vaccination debate, more about travel input and opinions as I am hoping to hatch a plan and ultimately travel while respecting imposed limitations.  

With my sunny wings potentially grounded indefinitely, I know I could always travel and remain in Canada,  which is probably my best option at this point. I have family and friends out it BC, so that may be my overall 2021 birthday trip goal.

That said, vaccine or not, if the mandatory 14-day quarantine upon return to Canada is lifted, I will be sitting on a beach in the Caribbean quicker a snowsquall can move into Muskoka knocking out a neighbourhood of Bell satellite dishes.

Trust me.... Here, with our unpredictable winter storm crap?

That's 5G, Flash Gordon, blink and pack because you're leaving on a plane, fast! 

#nufsaid

A SNACK BRACKET

My very favourite client was in the office last week and he said to me… “Rhondi, just like you, I’ve had Covid-19.”

We burst out laughing after he continued with, “At the end of all of this, I’m not sure if it will end up being nineteen pounds, or nineteen kilograms!” 

I don’t know about you, but as an emotional eater, I can generally peg the time of year when circus music begins to chime in my ear signaling me to buy stock in the most profitable potato chip company. And I can assure you, every fall, any and all are generously sampled; as part of my annual stock purchase evaluation.

What can I say. I was a fat toddler. I was power fed homogenized milk, and in those days the perception was the fatter the better. The good news is I shed that baby fat, the bad news is those formed fat cells follow you forever.

I have always been athletic and outgoing but when perimenopause clicked in everything changed. My body absorbed food differently and in one year my metabolism changed exponentially. It was in that moment I knew I was being put to pasture.

Kicking and screaming and the better part of a year later, I lost the excess weight and changed my lifestyle. That was in 2012.

Even with a major change in lifestyle, winters and my seasonal affective disorder in this harsh tundra have me pulling my gravy crutch out of the hall closet bringing the five or ten pound of weight gain that accompany it. The good news is those extra pounds were always shed before I ever had to appear in any sort of summer shorts or swimming outfit. 

This year? We locked down. I filled up. The rest is history!

I want to shed the pounds I’ve gained yet I am a creature of habit. 

If gravy has a crutch, my philosophy that if I share with the pups I am really only taking in 1/3 of the calories must be a motorized wheelchair. One chip for each of you, one chip for me. One jelly bean for each of you, one jelly bean for me; and trust me, I am always fair in the distribution department.

I guess you could say that the only way the dogs keep the upper paw on me is because they don't have to share their dog cookies with me. Though I must say, on occasion the label on the front of the box has made it cross my mind.

Not gonna lie.... Those gravy covered Milk Bone dog biscuits definitely land within my mid-winter snack bracket!!

#yagottalaughaboutit

It would appear that Annie and I have similar snackage struggles
TAKEN: AUGUST 7th, 2020

COTTAGE RAMP UP!

Only yours truly could be lucky enough to take their first summer vacation since 2012 and be blessed with rain all but the first day thus far. 

The crappy part is that the single sunny Saturday wasn't even taken as a day of rest, instead it was spent repairing and reinstalling the ramp attached to our floating dock system.

Notice the first step onto the ramp is missing?
TAKEN: AUGUST 1st, 2020

I think any repairs or renovations bring out the true personality of you and your life partner, which is probably why smart peeps pay someone to complete their chores to simply avoid the aggravation; automatically slotting us into the “sucker for punishment” construction category.

I’ve joked here numerous times that I married Canada’s Worst Handyman, which is exactly that, me teasing. If I was on the outside looking in, I would see that neither of us are lazy, nor less committed to accomplishing what we set our sites on.  We just approach any project we do in very different fashion. 

I like to have a firm plan from the start and my husband likes to jump in without even understanding if he has the right tools and material to finish.

I hate to be interrupted when I am in a task-oriented mode and he absolutely loves an extra five trips to the hardware store while the work is in process. Drives me bat shit crazy!

 

So, over the years I have learned that when we have a plan, there needs to be at least a three Saturday buffer to ensure we start without having to stop. To some it might read like micromanagement on my part, but I consider it as a solid investment in both efficiency and productivity... and the solemn promise from this cat not to argue whilst the task's being completed.

As you can see from the photo I am sharing, last Saturday has the top step from the deck onto the ramp missing. We never had a step there before, the ramp was always attached higher up. But by dropping the ramp and anchoring it differently, the hope is the ice won’t pummel it into submission again next winter.

Who wants to bet me that I don’t get a step installed this summer unless I do it myself?

Hey, I'm not trying to be a bitch here. 

I just have decades of historical data to prove I know the outcome of said bet hands down!

#yagottaslaughaboutit

LONG LIVE THE VCR

Once again, it's the little things in life that make me smile.

TAKEN: JULY 11th, 2020

This past weekend, I decided to start going through cottage totes I had packed up and put away. I knew before I began that if I didn't need what was inside, the items were going to be loaded onto the four wheeler and hauled up the hill.

My project began a top a beautiful cedar closet that has been home to two black totes that had been there forever. I grabbed my step stool and hauled them cats down. 

Very much to my surprise, I discovered they were filled with VHS tapes. 

Instantly, my sexy bonus light, signaling that I'd entered the lightning round lit up. I dropped the lid, quickly sailed across the room, and opened the top drawer of an old dresser/make shift TV stand. 

Now this dresser stand is a classic faux style antique, which I will refer to as a fine crafted, wooden flat screen television stand. Vintage in nature. Traditional in design. Lawn Sale value: $5.

 

With all my might, I pulled on the swollen top drawer that probably hadn't been opened since the totes were stored, only to to discover my prize inside. (Don't judge the whole time lapse thing. Think VERY expensive flat screen television stand.)

Anyway, the drawer was full of taped movies. As a matter a fact, three of the four drawers were filled. 

VHS tapes with family home videos, television specials, kids movies as well as some of my favourite classic movies. I suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

After an amazing weekend of watching great memories, I can't help but reflect on how easily I haphazardly jumped on a new technology band wagon all willy-nilly, with zero regard for this collection.

Truth is, when the kids were in high school, I began collecting us DVD's. When they went away to college, I began scouring bargain bins to add to my collection. 

Everything I have ranges in price from a $1.99 to $4.99. I am embarrassed to share that I have accumulated hundreds of DVD's. 

With no streaming option, the last couple of summers I have struggled to pick a movie, so imagine my excitement in the moment I discovered this treasure. 

It was like finding a long lost trusted friend on social media and you unconditionally needed to catch up with them. A total breath of fresh air....Which brings me to my point. 

Rhondi Rule #908: Never discount a strong connection you've previously had by replacing it with something shiny and new.

Chances are the original will turn out to be that cozy blanket and pair fuzzy slippers that you've been quietly missing for the last fifteen years.

Give or take a change in technology or twenty two!

DEAL WITH IT!

When I was a kid, my summer days were spent by the lake and my evenings spent playing cards or board games by propane powered lights with my mom and extended family. All these years later, those memories are still very fond ones.

Naturally, when we purchased our own cottage back in 2000, a wooden game box for puzzles and everything else needed to keep preteens busy was one of the first things created. They would swim through the day and if it rained, the game box was immediately cracked open before the television was ever turned on.

As I type, I can hear that classic pop-o-matic sound of a game of Trouble clicking away, or squeals of an exciting game of snakes and ladder in need of a referee well underway.

Their favourite card game was crazy 8's and I feel like they played thousands of those with my Dad before he passed in 2005.

As I reflect in my 20th summer at our cottage, I can't help but notice how much things have changed.

The kids don't come by very often anymore and the majority of my time is spent alone, yet I still love playing cards and board games. The difference is now it's against downloaded robots or an online audience.

 

Playing Phase 10 while listening to the Blue Jays play.
TAKEN: JULY 2018

Every once and a while I can convince my husband to play but it's not really his thing. In the summers since the kids left home, it has always been a negotiation to gain his interest in participating.

For instance, in summers past, though I absolutely hate baseball (which is another post) I would concede that we could listen to the game on the radio if he'd agree to play a board game or a couple of games of cards in return. With this summer season cancelled, I think I am going to have to become super creative.

With cottage life officially underway and no sports to use as bait, I'm thinking I may need to bust out a topless option with benefits for Canasta to get him interested in participating.

Either way, I'll deal with it. 

Get it?

Cards?

Deal?

That said, feel free to insert eye roll or head shake now.

A solid groan would also be totally appropriate!

U IS FOR UNAPOLOGETIC

O IS FOR OOOOPS

I don’t know about you, but I've a very challenging and volatile relationship with my aging metabolism. Trust me when I admit that I wasn't even remotely prepared for what midlife did to a woman’s body but will go on the record stating this: It friggin’ sucks!

Let's face it. I only know a very small handful of women my age that are happy with their shape and my theory is simple. Menopause blows, big time. 

I suppose I could spend the money on liposuction to rid the evidence that I gave birth to 3 children, instead I wear clothes that are generally flattering to my shape, while spending my savings on travelling as much as my work life allows. This year, with COVID19 in full force, not so much. 

You see, over the last 6 or seven months I’ve put on some ‘stress weight’ that I am having a tough time shaking. It’s not the type of stress I experienced a decade years ago, more the ‘there aren’t enough hours in a day’ stress; which ultimately opens the door for bad food choices, creating even more stress.

I hate that I'm heavier than I care to be. That said, I guess I could have chosen, overweight or obese as my word, instead I chose OOOOPS.

Frankly because I feel I am simply on a detour, meaning I have not arrived at my final destination.

Thanks for listening ~ Rhondi

My quest for my waist once again continues!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 3rd, 2019
MAZATLAN, MEXICO